Compatibility
by kerryblaze
Summary: SLASH. HarryxRon. Two relationships end. Will another begin?
1. Two Out of Three

**Title:** _Two Out of Three Ain't Bad_  
**Pairing**: Harry/OC, unrequited Harry/Ron  
**Rating**: R – for language and implied sex  
**Summary**: Harry's too tired to fight about the same old thing - Ron.  
**A/N**: This was inspired by Meatloaf's song _Two Out of Three Ain't Bad_.

**_Two Out of Three Ain't Bad_**

_Baby we can talk all night  
But that ain't getting us nowhere  
I told you everything I possibly can  
There's nothing left inside of here…_

Sedated and sweaty, his arms shaky from the orgasm that had just rocked all of his senses, Harry pulled out of the man underneath him and collapsed on the bed, panting and wiping the sweat from the fringe hanging in his eyes.

"Mmmm," his lover murmured, snuggling up against him. "That was… Mmmm - yeah."

Harry stretched and wiggled his fingers and toes, attempting to get some of the feeling back in his limbs.

"I love you."

It had taken months and a conscious effort on Harry's part not to cringe when he heard those words.

In response, he tenderly kissed the top of the brown hair nuzzled under his chin. "Yeah, that was incredible. It's always incredible."

Disregarding the obvious discontent of the person that shared his bed, Harry rolled over, turning his back on the wounded face that was staring at him.

"You're a right bastard! Do you know that?"

"Yeah, so I've been told," answered Harry sarcastically.

"This is getting real old, Harry."

"Please, John," Harry begged with an edge of annoyance in his voice. "I'm tired. I don't feel like getting into this right now."

"Well, maybe _I_ do!"

"Well, _I_ don't!" Harry snapped back.

"Look at me!" demanded John, grabbing Harry's shoulder and yanking him around onto his back. 

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and stared defiantly back into the angry man's dark brown eyes.

With a huff, John exited the bed and began to pace along the edge of it.

"You're a bastard _and_ a liar!"

"Fuck!" Harry smacked his hand on the empty spot next to him. "I've never lied to you! You knew from day one that –"

"Right – right. I shouldn't expect too much from the famous Harry Potter who is _incapable_ of love. Isn't that right? Isn't that the bullshit you feed anyone that tries to get close to you?"

"I'm not talking about this! We've talked about it hundreds of times and nothing is going to change."

"I'm _sorry_," John said, sardonically. "I'm sorry for believing – _hoping_ that things would change. That you would –"

Harry sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "What? That I would what?"

"That you would _care_ more."

_I poured it on and I poured it out  
I tried to show you just how much I care  
I'm tired of words and I'm too hoarse to shout…_

"Jesus, John, I do care about you," Harry said, grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and cleaning them on the edge of a pillowcase before putting them on. "How many times have I told you that?"

"Ha!" John screamed. "_Tell me_! That's rich. You can't be honest with yourself and you are going to be honest with me!"

"I've been here with you - for what? Nine months now. Doesn't that say something? It's the longest I've ever… I've been with someone. Isn't that enough to show that I want you?"

"A year," John said softly.

Harry twisted his torso around to face him. "Huh?"

"It was a year. Last week. Wednesday to be exact."

"Last Wednesday? Why didn't you say something? I would've –"

"Would've what, Harry? You would've given up the night with Ron to spend it here with me?"

_Now_, Harry remembered last Wednesday.

"I – That was… We were celebrating. You know how long we were trying to chase down that wizard!"

Looking exhausted, John flopped down on the bed.

"It's not fair to me. I give you one hundred percent. And on your best day, I only get about fifty from you."

_And all I can do is keep on telling you  
I want you  
I need you  
But -- there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you  
Now don't be sad  
'cause two out of three ain't bad…_

Harry fell backwards, collapsing defeated on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he unsuccessfully tried to come up with the words to explain how he felt. He had said it all before - time and time again. He didn't feel any different now than the first time he had told John that he wanted to be with him, that he needed him. Harry could lie and tell him that it had turned into love, but it wouldn't change the fact that it didn't and never would. He couldn't love him, even if he wanted to and he _did_ want to. John was a good man – handsome, smart, charming and he loved Harry to pieces.

"John," Harry said softly, climbing up on his knees and putting his arms around his lover's chest. "I don't want to hurt you. _Please_, I've always been honest with you. I'm happy with you. I –"

"This is your _happy_? Blimey, I'd hate to see your melancholy! Half the time you walk around here like a Inferius. The only time you have any kind of real spark is when you find out that you and Ron are going on one of your dandy Auror adventures."

"Why are we talking about this - _again_? I've told you that I like coming home to you. I like the things we do together. I like falling asleep with you and waking up with you and –"

"_Like_, Harry. Do you hear yourself? I deserve more than like. I deserve love! I deserve more than what you are willing to give me," said John sadly.

"You do. I won't deny that. But I don't want to lose you. I need you." Harry finished the best declaration of commitment that he could give by kissing the back of John's neck tenderly.

_I can't lie  
I can't tell you that I'm something I'm not  
No matter how I try  
I'll never be able  
To give you something  
Something that I just haven't got..._

John tore himself from Harry's arms to stand again. "I want more than that."

"It's not you. It's me. I can't –"

"You _can_. You don't want to. There's a difference."

"I _can't_! I think you're fantastic and if there were anybody in the world that I would want to – it'd be you. I just – just can't."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why can't you? Was it a spell? Did Voldemort curse your heart before you killed him? Or is it because your heart is already filled with love for someone else?"

"Stop being so melodramatic! There's no one in my heart."

"Of course there is. I know it. Hermione knows it. The only two that don't seem to know it are you and Ron."

"Ron!" Harry yelled. "We're back to _Ron_ again – are we? Why do you always bring him into this? Ron is not the reason that I am the way that I am. It's a lot much more complicated than that."

"Please!" John shrieked. "Stop lying to yourself. You love him and you are never going to stop loving him until admit you that and then get him out of your life."

Livid, Harry jumped out of bed. "That's what you're asking? You're asking me to not speak to Ron!" Harry poked John's chest, shocking him and sending him stumbling a few steps backwards. "You have no right! Ron has been by my side… Almost died for me – more than once… He – He –"

Through narrowed eyes, John responded. "That's not what I am asking you to do! And even though you –" He poked Harry's chest with his index finger for emphasis. "- and I are _over_, I love you so much – you arsehole – that I'm trying to talk some sense into you!"

Standing there panting out of frustration, Harry glared at John, speechless.

"You're hopeless, Harry," John said, throwing his hands up in the air. "No one can ever compete with Ron. Ever! You were honest with me and told me that you loved him once. Now be honest with yourself and admit that you can't just flip a switch on love and turn it off. You never stopped loving him. I mean, my god, look at you! Playing house with me every night and then spending everyday working with him, standing side by side, fighting the big bads with your _wands_. Fuck! It's so Freudian it's fucking pathetic!"

_There's only one boy that I will ever love  
And that was so many years ago  
And though I know I'll never get him out of my heart  
He never loved me back  
Ooh I know..._

"I _did_ love him, but that was a long time ago. And –"

"And you never told him. You never gave him the chance to either love you back or shoot you down. That's why you can't get over him. You won't love _me_. You won't ever love _anyone_ because you'll always hold on to a glimmer of hope that Ron does love you and you'll finally have your chance."

"He – He doesn't love me… not like that. So, there is no chance. I'm here with you. I want to make this work – with _you_!"

John sat down on the bed next to Harry, the springs in the old mattress creaking under his weight. Just yesterday they had talked about buying a new one this weekend. Harry wondered how everything had shifted so quickly.

John looked at his hands as he spoke. "No, you really don't. I know you _think_ that you do. Harry, I love you. I fell in love with you the first night I met you. I've tried everything to get you to love me back. But I have to face reality. I can't go on like this… I want you to leave."

"Leave?" Harry repeated incredulously.

"This was _my_ place. I'll – I'll give you back your portion of this month's rent."

"Keep it!" Harry snapped, standing up abruptly. "I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"No," John whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"No," John said more forcefully. "I want you to leave now – tonight."

Harry glanced out the window. "Are you mad? It's snowing out there! It's the middle of the night!"

Shrugging, John stood up. "I reckon that I _was_ mad. Mad for believing that you would change. I'm sure that I'm quite sane right now."

"Fine!"

Harry began searching for his overnight bag in the wardrobe. John reached under the bed and pulled it.

Ripping it from his hands, Harry hissed, "Thank you!"

After stuffing the small bag with a scattering of clothes he ripped from drawers, he dressed hurriedly.

Without looking at John, he slung the bag over his shoulder and headed for the door.

"I'll get the rest of my things while you are at work," he barked.

"Harry," John said, his voice wobbly with second-guesses. "Where will you be staying?"

Harry walked out of the bedroom without a response.

There wasn't one needed.

They both knew that he was going to Ron's.

**Fin**


	2. Hermione is Always Right

**Title**: _Compatibility_  
**Sub-title**: _Hermione is always right_  
**Pairing**: Harry/Ron, Hermione/Ron, mention of Harry/OC  
**Rating**: R – for language and implied sex  
**Summary**: Ron tells us how Hermione is always right.  
**A/N**: This was written for the a challenge on the LJ community Harry and Ron - HBP Canon Challenge.

**_Compatibility _**

I should've listened to Hermione years ago. She tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. Nope, I was too young, too stupid, and entirely too stubborn. I'm sure that doesn't come as a surprise to anyone.

In my defense, Hermione didn't _always_ know everything. Most of the time, yes, but not when it came to matters of the heart. I mean seriously, it took her long enough to realize that I fancied her! Everyone else had worked that one out by fourth year. I reckon that when you are too close to something, it isn't always easy to see the obvious. I'm starting to understand that now.

So, I didn't listen to her when the subject of marriage came up and she said that we should take things slow between us.

"To find out if we are compatible," she said.

_Compatible_! I didn't get it. The war was over. Voldemort was gone. I fancied her. She fancied me. We were shagging and getting really good at it too. I couldn't believe that she didn't want to marry me.

"You're saying that you don't want to marry me?"

"I didn't say that! I said I don't know that yet."

"You don't love me!"

"I do," she said sincerely.

"Then what is the problem!"

"We might not be able to live together. And what about our aspirations for the future? We might not be heading in the same direction."

Normally, I don't understand half of what Hermione is talking about, and that time was no exception.

Then I did the only thing that I could think of – I broke up with her. I'm not giving the details because it was _not_ my finest moment.

The next step was an obvious one. I moved in with Harry, whose love life was just as pathetic as mine. After he had given Ginny his third excuse – some rubbish about needing time to get his priorities straight - for why they couldn't get back together, she decided that she was done waiting and moved on.

Harry was living in a one bedroom flat, so I was left sleeping on the sofa. I didn't mind. I was actually quite surprised how happy I was even though I did miss Hermione, putting even our friendship on hold while I nursed my bruised ego.

Like he always did, Harry remained neutral. He would listen when I ranted about how mental women are and, when I was done, would suggest that we go out for a pint to relax.

As I said, I was happy living with Harry. We had a routine. Harry always woke before me and by the time I stumbled into the kitchen, my coffee would be ready for me just the way that I like it. Harry was a bit of a slob and I'm no house-elf, but I always picked his things up along with mine and put them back in their proper place so he wouldn't go mad looking for them.

The best part was that we were both accepted into Auror training. Not bad for two blokes who didn't take our N.E.W.T.s. (Of course, Hermione went back to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year.) I guess defeating the most powerful Dark Lord ever known to the world gave us an advantage over the other applicants.

I had even started dating a bit. Harry dated occasionally, if one of the birds I was dating had a fit close friend or sister or cousin visiting, but mostly he liked to stay home. I didn't mind doing that either - staying home with Harry, listening to Quidditch matches on the WWN or watching a football game on the Muggle telly that Harry liked so much. It was all comfortable and fun. Harry's a real funny bloke. A lot of people don't know that. Most nights we didn't to do anything but sit around talking and laughing and when I fell asleep, usually at one end of the sofa while Harry was at the other end, I felt… content? I reckon that is the word I'm looking for.

This went on for four months and I started to forget that a few months before I had wanted something completely different.

Until… Ginny mentioned that she met Hermione's new boyfriend. Ginny's face revealed that it was a slip of the tongue, but I jumped all over it. I interrogated her (something I was getting very good at due to my Auror training) and found out that he was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and that they had only been dating for a few weeks – two lunches in Hogsmeade's and a dinner in London.

Harry swore to me that he didn't know.

I became a man obsessed. I wanted her back. She fancied **me**, _not_ some bloody, old, stuffy professor!

I used the excuse that I wanted to meet for lunch to try to repair our friendship. As soon as she sat down, I launched into my well-rehearsed apology, placing all of the blame on me. Begging and groveling for her to take me back came next. She had a lot of excuses; they all sounded as well rehearsed as my apology.

"Ron, since we've been apart, I think… I've _decided_ that we would be better off as just friends."

"Why?" 

"For one thing, I don't think that I could live with your choice of a career," she said pointedly.

"Uh? You mean you don't want me to be an Auror?" I asked in shock.

"No! Honestly, Ron, haven't you seen enough death and carnage?"

"It's – It's not about that! This is what I want to do!"

"Why?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Be-because… Because it's what I want to do!" I answered, throwing my hands in the air. "What does it have to do with _us_?"

"I don't want to have to worry about you all the time. Have you seen Mad-Eye? Is that what you want to look like in ten years?"

"Hermione, how shallow of you!"

"I don't mean it that way! I would worry _all_ the time."

"I don't understand you! You don't want to marry me because you'll worry about me all the time, but you want to be my friend. So, you won't worry about me because we are _just_ friends?"

"Well, that's not the same thing – is it? When you're intimate and _in_ love with someone – it's just different."

"No, it's not. I don't worry about you anymore or less than I worry about Harry."

"Oh, Ron…"

We left as friends. I was _not_ satisfied with that.

I owled her twice a day. I asked Harry, Ginny, Neville, and anyone else that I knew to talk to her. I even sent her a singing dwarf and it wasn't even Valentine's Day.

In other words, I wore her down.

Finally, when she had taken her N.E.W.T.s and left Hogwarts for good, she agreed to think about it.

By the end of the summer, we were living together. It was a compromise on my side; I still wanted to get married. But Hermione insisted that this was the best for both of us and I wanted her so bad that I didn't care.

I never thought about how Harry felt about me leaving. I was too excited about having finally won Hermione over.

Harry followed me around the day that I was packing up my things, chattering on and on about Auror training and how he couldn't wait for our first field test.

"Thanks, mate, for letting me share your flat," I said before stepping into the floo.

Harry nodded and continued staring at me with a look that, despite how well I know him, I couldn't read.

"Ron, wait," he said, grabbing my shoulder as I turned away from him. "Look, I… Is this what you really want?"

"Sure, it is! Hermione's wrong. We'll be happy – you'll see," I said brightly.

"Weren't you happy? Happy here… the past few months."

"Yeah, of course, I was."

At the time, I didn't think much about the conversation or what he had meant by it or what being happy meant really.

Within a year, I couldn't _stop_ thinking about it. And the word _compatible_ took on a whole new meaning for me.

And so did the word _bickering_.

Unlike the natural routine that Harry and I had fallen into, Hermione and I bumped heads on everything that we did.

We never saw each other at meals. I liked to sleep late, leaving Hermione to eat breakfast alone. Hermione often stayed late at the office, forcing me to find dinner for myself. This meant going to Harry's with takeaway, which would then lead to a trip to the pub, often bringing me home well after Hermione had gone to bed.

Hermione loved her career working with The Brotherhood of Goblins, helping them draft a bill for Goblins rights. I tried, but just couldn't muster the same passion for Goblin's rights that she had. She would come home bubbling with excitement over a new development and I would attempt to listen, but the end result was always the same. My thoughts would drift off, wondering what Harry was doing, and Hermione would become hurt that I wasn't listening to her.

My career was never mentioned. I attempted to hide every scrape, bruise, or burn that I acquired because it made her face wrinkle up with worry. When I ended up in St. Mungo's, hexed by an overzealous fellow trainee, I begged Harry not to owl her. Of course, she found out (Ginny has a very big mouth) and was hurt that I didn't want her there. That wasn't the truth, but it turned into a big row that ended with me sleeping on the sofa for a week.

After that, I did the only thing that I could think of to do – I compromised. Not Auror training; that meant too much to me. I stopped mentioning marriage and did whatever it was that she asked me to do. I escorted her to all the necessary functions that she needed to attend so she could meet the _right people_ who could help her push the bill forward, even though they made me feel uncomfortable and awkward. I gave Harry all of my Chudley Canons things because the orange distracted her and gave her a headache.

There were dozens of other things as well. Little things that didn't really matter and aren't important enough to mention.

I had wanted this relationship more than anything, so it was my duty to be what she wanted – right? That's what you do in a relationship – compromise. At least that's what my Mum tells me.

And I reckoned that I was doing something right because she didn't leave. 

For three years, every night with Hermione seemed surreal and the days spent with Harry seemed to be the only genuine thing in my life. I attributed it to my overwhelming desire to be an Auror.

Harry and I were quite good at it too. The best, actually. We qualified on our first attempt. And within months, we were receiving assignments over the more senior Aurors.

We did so well because we were partners. We always worked out things together. When I was struggling with my tracking spells, Harry spent hours with me until I got them right. And when he had trouble actually applying the tracking coordinates to the maps, I taught him shortcuts that I had worked out myself.

This was my life. It was the path that I had chosen for myself. I wasn't going to complain about it.

Lucky for both of us, Hermione's path hit a fork in the road.

"You what?"

"I received an offer for a position in Paris. The Ministry there is willing to offer Goblins the same rights as wizards," she replied.

"And you're going to accept it?" I asked sharply.

"I didn't say that. I asked you what _you_ thought about it."

"I – I – I don't know. What about my career?"

"What about it? I loathe it just as much now as I always did. Every time you come home with a scratch or a burn… And when a strange owl shows up at my office in the middle of the day…" She cut off her words as her voice began to tremble.

"You think I'm that bad of an Auror that I will get myself killed?" I screamed.

"No. Don't change the subject," she said pleadingly.

"What do you want, Hermione?"

"This is the opportunity that I've been waiting for. I want to go. What… " She stared at me for a long time with sad eyes as if she already knew the answer. "What do you want to do?"

It still surprises me how quickly I answered and how sure I was of it. 

"I'm staying here, Hermione. My life is here."

That summed it up. _My life is here_. We both knew what that meant. She wasn't my life. My life was my job… my family… and _Harry_.

Harry.

So, yeah, I should've listened to her years ago because maybe if I had, then it wouldn't have taken so long for me to figure that out.

Harry is my life.

And maybe if I'd listened to her, it wouldn't have taken so long to have my arms full of Harry who is still naked and sweaty and panting from just having what I want to scream to the world was the best sex ever.

I'm sorry. I got ahead of the story there. I'm just a bit overjoyed at the moment.

Fate handed Harry to me the day Hermione left. She left the morning after she told me about Paris. We were still friends and when I hugged her goodbye, I felt closer to her than I had felt in the past few years.

Harry showed up that night, having just ended another relationship.

By the way, I never did like that John. Too perfect - if you ask me. He was the kind of bloke that everyone thought was just wonderful, but probably boiled babies or sacrificed virgins or something. Even though I didn't uncover anything when I followed him around for a few days, that doesn't mean that there wasn't _something_ wrong with him.

Oh, did I forget to mention that? Harry fancies blokes. Pretty convenient given the present circumstances.

Anyway, Harry looked upset as I grabbed ale out of the fridge and let him go on about it. Eventually, he realized that there were no books on the shelves and Hermione's family photos were missing from the mantle.

I told him about the job and Paris.

"She left you?" he asked incredulously.

"No. I stayed behind."

Nothing happened that night. Harry slept in the spare bedroom. I still hadn't fully grasped the concept that I was in love with Harry in a way that I was never in love with Hermione. Perhaps it was guilt blocking it. I had let my ego rule my decisions and almost mucked up all of our lives.

It only took a week of living with Harry again for me to see where I had gone so horribly wrong.

One night, after I had stopped to see the twins and sent Harry home ahead of me, I returned to the flat to find my Chudley Canons pillows on the sofa and the posters on the wall.

Harry was standing there blushing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "I kept them safe for you."

He must've moved ten times since I gave him those things. I was moved beyond words.

So when a few days later Harry mentioned that he was going to look for his own flat, wearing that look on his face – the one that I had first noticed years ago and had seen many times after – I finally realized that he was in love with me because I had _never_ seen him look that way at anyone else. And I have seen Harry look at a lot of people.

"You don't have to," I said. "You can stay here with me."

"Really? Is that what you want?"

_Want_. It became very clear that Harry was what I wanted.

I answered his question by pulling him into my arms and giving him the snogging of a lifetime.

Some could say that it all happened too fast with Hermione just moving out and all. But they would be wrong. Believe me, I had my head up my arse for more years than I care to admit.

He was speechless. After we kissed, I mean. Obviously, he couldn't say much while I had my tongue shoved in his mouth.

He just stared at me for a long time, unblinking.

I reckoned maybe he needed to hear the answer too.

"Harry, you're what I want."

He tackled me onto the sofa, bringing us to where we are now. I had no clue how to make love to a man, but, just like we always did, we worked it out as a team. I never did like being told what to do. With Harry, it was different. He guided me around his body, using an extremely pleasurable technique of showing me first on mine.

He looks so stunning lying underneath me, looking at me as if I am the most magnificent creature to ever walk the earth. I thought that I knew all of Harry's expressions, but I think I saw about a hundred new ones tonight. And the one that he is wearing right now makes me want to do crazy things to keep on seeing it. I'd write poetry, build him a castle, steal the world's biggest gem, _anything_ so that he'll never stop looking at me like that.

"I never did that before," he says shyly.

"Uh? How – I mean you've been with other blokes before? I've seen you… Well, I didn't _see_ you, but -"

"Yeah. But not… not how we just…"

"Oh!" I'm shocked. "Oh… Did I hurt you?"

He laughs as I look over his body as if I could spot some outward sign of an infliction.

"A little," he admits. "But it was perfect."

I want to tell him that I'm a git for being so thickheaded and beg his forgiveness for wasting so many years. But I know that I don't have to. Not with Harry. He already forgave me.

We move around a bit so that I'm lying on my back and Harry is on his side curled around me and over me.

"We should get some sleep," he says. "We have a big day tomorrow. That coven of vampires aren't going to turn themselves in."

Instinctively, I pull him closer to me, hugging him tightly, feeling a fanatical urge to protect him.

For someone who isn't usually very self-aware, I'm suddenly bombarded with it and I finally understand Hermione a lot more.

All of it makes sense now. Why after Harry and I would fight along side each other, I would feel like I just had sex. Or when I would be paired up with another Auror, I would feel dirty like I was cheating on Harry.

Being an Auror meant being with Harry, protecting him while he chased his own internal demons.

Fuck, that is some deep shite. Scary, too. Because what am I going to do now? Hermione was right. Bollocks! It _is_ different now that I am intimate with him.

"Yeah, vampires. We should see a lot of action."

"Yeah, action," he says broodingly.

Harry's finger is tracing a scar on my right hip. He had been the one to heal the gash a few months ago while we were chasing a fairly nasty wizard in the Cumbrian Mountains.

My thumb imitates his action, running over the spot on his forehead where his famous scar used to be until a young Dementor sucked the last remaining portion of Voldemort's soul from it. I won't get into that - _everyone_ knows that story.

"I was thinking… after the vampires, maybe we could take a holiday."

"A holiday would be nice."

"Take a break from all the action."

"Oh. Are you – Is the action –"

He moves up a bit and tangles his fingers in my hair above my ear, burrowing his head under my chin.

"Maybe. Yeah, a little. I've been thinking about – about taking a break from… from the action."

"That would be nice," I say soothingly.

"Maybe permanently," he adds.

I pull him completely on top off me, rest both hands on the side of his head, and place a dozen kisses all over his face until the unsure expression is gone from it and his face crinkles up from laughter.

"That's amazing, Harry. I was thinking the same thing."

So, Hermione was right about everything. Things that I know she knew and was smart enough to not tell me and let me work out for myself. I want to tell her that. She deserves to know that… and about Harry and me.

"Ron, let's stop off in Paris on our holiday."

See, compatible. 

**Fin**


End file.
